Common Sense Hijack System-Chapter 127

Layla sat down next to Jane on the couch, the tension still palpable in the room. Karl was staring out of the window again, his shoulders stiff as if bracing for another inevitable storm.

"He’s been doing everything to keep us safe," Layla said softly, breaking the silence between her and Jane. "But how much longer can we live like this? Watching him exhaust himself every day just to keep this fragile peace intact."

Jane looked down at her hands, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her sleeve. "He’s strong, but he’s only human. If this keeps up..." Her voice trailed off, the unspoken thought too heavy to put into words.

Layla glanced at Karl, who was still lost in thought by the window. "Do you think he feels lonely?" she asked quietly.

Jane hesitated, then nodded. "He doesn’t talk about it, but I see it in his eyes. He carries so much, yet he never asks for help. It’s like he’s forgotten he’s allowed to lean on someone else."

Layla leaned back, crossing her arms. "Maybe it’s because he feels like he has to be strong for us. After everything that’s happened, he probably thinks he’s the only one who can hold things together."

"But that’s not fair to him," Jane whispered, her voice trembling. "He deserves more than just carrying this burden alone. He deserves comfort, someone who can make him feel like he’s not fighting this war by himself."

Layla looked over at her, surprised by the raw emotion in her words. She saw something in Jane’s eyes that mirrored her own thoughts—something she hadn’t dared admit even to herself.

"You’re right," Layla said slowly, her tone softening. "But what can we do? It’s not like we can just... tell him to stop and let us take over. He won’t listen."

Jane smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "No, he won’t. But maybe we don’t have to say it outright. Maybe we just... show him."

Layla raised an eyebrow. "Show him?"

Jane’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, but she held Layla’s gaze. "Sometimes, people don’t need words to know they’re not alone. Sometimes, they just need to feel it."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Layla felt a flicker of understanding pass between them—an unspoken agreement, a shared determination.

Karl had done so much for them, more than anyone else ever had. It was time they found a way to give something back, even if he didn’t realize he needed it.

The night grew colder, with the bitter chill of the extreme weather seeping through the cracks in the apartment’s windows. Karl lay sprawled on the sofa, wrapped in a thin blanket that did little to fend off the biting cold. His face was serene in sleep, his breaths steady, completely unaware of the two pairs of eyes watching him intently.

Jane sat on the edge of the couch across from him, her arms folded tightly as if trying to hold herself together. Layla, sitting beside her, glanced at Karl before leaning closer to Jane.

"He looks so peaceful," Jane murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze lingered on Karl’s face, tracing the faint lines of weariness and strength that made him who he was.

Layla nodded, pulling her own blanket tighter around her shoulders. "He always does. Even when everything around us feels like it’s falling apart, he manages to stay calm." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But I wonder if it’s just a mask."

Jane glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

Layla hesitated before answering, her tone soft but laced with concern. "I mean, he’s always the one protecting us, taking all the risks. He never complains, but... doesn’t he ever feel like he needs someone too? Someone to lean on?"

Jane’s lips pressed into a thin line. She looked at Karl again, his chest rising and falling with every steady breath. "He does," she said quietly. "Even if he doesn’t say it, I can see it. The way he’s always on guard, the way he tries to hide his exhaustion... it’s like he doesn’t know how to let anyone else take care of him."

Layla’s gaze dropped to her hands. "It’s not just him," she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "Ever since we’ve been here, I’ve felt like there’s this... gap. Like something’s missing. And now, with him here, it’s even harder to ignore."

Jane’s cheeks flushed slightly as she glanced at Layla, then back at Karl. "You’re not the only one," she confessed, her voice almost inaudible. "I thought maybe it was just me. That maybe I was... imagining things. But being around him, especially now, I can’t help but—"

She stopped herself, her face turning a deeper shade of red.

Layla exhaled shakily, her breath visible in the frigid air. "It’s the cold," she said, almost as if trying to convince herself. "It’s making everything feel... more intense."

Jane gave her a sideways glance, a flicker of mischief in her eyes despite the seriousness of the conversation. "Is it really just the cold, though?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

Layla stiffened slightly, her face heating. "Jane, don’t start," she muttered, though her tone lacked conviction.

Jane chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I’m just saying, it’s okay to admit it. We’re human, after all. And... it’s not like we’re alone in feeling this way."

Layla hesitated, her gaze drifting back to Karl. He shifted slightly in his sleep, the blanket slipping off one shoulder. The sight of him, vulnerable and completely unguarded, sent a strange pang through her chest.

"It’s not fair," Layla said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm. "He does so much for us, and yet we just sit here, doing nothing while he bears everything on his own."

Jane reached out and placed a hand on Layla’s arm, her expression softening. "We’re not doing nothing," she said gently. "We’re here. We care. And maybe... that’s what he needs most."

Layla looked at her, her expression conflicted. "Do you really think that’s enough?"

Jane didn’t answer right away. Her gaze returned to Karl, her thoughts swirling as the icy air seemed to grow heavier around them. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It’s a start."

Jane sat in silence for a moment, her breath visible in the frigid air. Her gaze lingered on Karl, who remained fast asleep on the sofa. She bit her lip, her thoughts swirling as the unspoken tension between her and Layla thickened in the cold, quiet room.

Finally, she broke the silence, her voice low and tinged with a vulnerability that she rarely showed.

"Layla," she began, her eyes still fixed on Karl, "I need to tell you something... something I’ve been holding back."

Layla shifted uncomfortably, sensing the weight in Jane’s words. "What is it?"

Jane leaned closer, her cheeks flushed—not just from the cold. "I can’t deny it anymore. This... this need I feel. It’s been building up ever since I came here." She hesitated, her voice dropping even further. "Ever since he took me in."

Layla stiffened slightly, her own heart racing as she avoided Jane’s gaze. "Jane... I don’t know if—"

Jane cut her off gently, her hand brushing against Layla’s arm. "Don’t pretend you don’t feel it too," she said, her tone soft but firm. "I’ve seen the way you look at him. The way your eyes follow him whenever he’s around."

Layla’s face flushed, and she pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders. "That’s not—"

Jane leaned in closer, her voice almost a whisper. "It’s okay, Layla. You don’t have to hide it from me. I understand... because I feel the same way."

Layla’s breath hitched, her defenses crumbling under Jane’s directness. She finally glanced at Jane, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and longing. "I... I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said weakly, though her trembling voice betrayed her.

Jane smiled faintly, her fingers lightly brushing against Layla’s. "You miss it, don’t you?" she asked, her tone filled with a mix of teasing and understanding. "The way he used to hold you. The way he made you feel wanted."

Layla’s eyes widened, her lips parting as if to protest, but no words came.

Jane continued, her voice growing more confident. "I see it in you, Layla. Every time he walks into the room, you light up. But now..." She paused, glancing at Karl’s sleeping form. "Now you’re just as starved as I am. Starved for touch, for connection. For him."

Layla looked away, her face burning with shame and something else she couldn’t name. "Jane, this isn’t fair," she whispered. "You can’t just say things like that."

Jane moved closer, her hand resting on Layla’s knee. "I’m saying it because it’s true," she said softly. "We’ve both been holding back, pretending we’re fine. But we’re not, are we? Not when he’s right here, so close, and yet..."

Her voice trailed off as she looked back at Karl, her expression unreadable. The faint rise and fall of his chest, the relaxed curve of his mouth—it all made the tension in the room unbearable.

Layla swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the cold. "What are you suggesting, Jane?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Jane’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "I’m suggesting that we stop pretending. That we admit what we feel... and maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to feel whole again."

Layla stared at her, torn between denial and the undeniable pull of her own emotions. The room seemed to grow even colder, the silence between them heavy with unspoken desires.